Fields of Golden Barley
by Follower of Aslan
Summary: Songfic, based on "Fields of Gold" by Sting. Corin/Lucy. An angsty look into how a boy won the heart of a woman, and a Prince became worthy of a Queen...I'm WAY out of my comfort zone in writing a romance fic, so please R&R and tell me how I'm doing
1. Prologue

**A/N: This fic will be primarily from Corin's POV**

**"Fields of Golden Barley"**

**Corin's POV**

I think I loved her from the beginning.

We were so alike in many ways and so different in others. She was vivacious and the life of any party – as was I (well, perhaps boisterous is a better way to describe my youthful attitude). Yet she was a peacemaker, and I…..was not, as Cor could readily attest, having felt my fist make contact with his jaw on more than one occasion.

My brother was the first to know of my feelings for the young Queen of Narnia. "You're a brave lad, Corin." I remember him saying softly that night long ago, with his hand on my shoulder. "It's just…" and his voice trailed off there. I knew what his unspoken thoughts were. _Don't get your hopes too high, brother_. In principle, it was sage advice. Who was I to love Lucy? What right did a boy have in loving a woman?

Yet love her I did.

**Lucy's POV**

It surprised me that I loved him. And yes, I DID love him. No one here in England would understand how love and romantic fervor could exist between a boy and a woman, between a Prince and a Queen. But Corin, Prince of Archenland, loved me with a passion that I could never fully comprehend. And I never tried, except to love him in the same way.

I first met my future love when he was four, a mere toddler, and a motherless son of the King of Archenland. I was a ten-year-old queen of a land I'd only entered a week before. The envoy from Anvard came bearing gifts and congratulations for their newly-freed northern neighbors. King Lune himself came, bearing the jolly, kindhearted personality that defined him, despite having lost his wife just months prior. With him was Corin, a little boy with the eyes of an angel.

He latched on to Susan instantly, who simply adored the little lad. He followed her everywhere, like a loyal pet following its owner. He would later refer to my sister as his surrogate mother, and so she was. He worshipped Peter (who couldn't help but like the boy) and was very fond of Edmund. It was said by Lune years later that Corin paved the way for the close friendship between Archenland and Narnia. Indeed, I think he was correct.

In me, Corin saw a playmate (something he didn't have at the palace in Anvard), someone to befriend – and so it was. We spent hours together, both at Cair Paravel and Anvard. We were each other's favorite companion. Between us, it was friendship at first sight.

But oh, how it became so much more!


	2. Chapter One

**A/N: I had to change canon around to make this story work. First off, each Pevensie is two years older than what they were in the books...for example (at their coronation), Peter - 15, Susan - 14, Edmund - 12, and Lucy - 10. Corin (as mentioned in the prologue) is 4 years old at the time of the coronation. **

**Secondly, the trouble with Rabadash takes place in Year 9 of the Pevensie Reign, not Year 14. **

**As far as I know, that's all I had to change. As I stated in the summary, I'm stepping WAY out of my comfort zone and doing something I once swore I would never do - write a romance fic. Aslan forgive me, I have sinned. BUT perhaps I'll be absolved if I get some good reviews. **

**Scratch good, how about I just get some reviews? **

**Please?**

_You'll remember me when the west wind moves  
Upon the fields of barley.  
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky  
As we walk in fields of gold._

**Corin's POV**

I remember our first kiss.

I was thirteen, quite young to be trading kisses with any lass, let alone a Narnian Queen six years my senior. But the battle of Anvard had just been won, Rabadash, son of the Tisroc (may he die a painful death), had been captured, his cavalry annihilated, his treacherous plans blown to the four winds. I had ridden into battle with the Narnian reinforcements (albeit against the express wishes of King Edmund, but that is another story entirely…) and tasted my first conflict. The blood of my forebears ran hot in my veins that day as I beheld the brazen perfidy of the Calormene Empire against my beloved Anvard. On that day, three Calormene Tarkhaans fell by my sword, and my country was saved. I do believe that was the day I began the transition from boyhood to manhood.

The taste of victory still sweet in my mouth, I sought out Lucy among the archers. I looked a horrid sight, the blood of those I had slain staining my garments, and she gasped when she saw me. "You wicked lad!" she cried. "Have you indeed defied my royal brother's express command?" She tried to frown, but her eyes were dancing with joy for our victory and relief that I had indeed survived. "May I remind you, my dear lady," I gaily replied. "A foreign king's orders have no effect on a Prince of Archenland."

"Corin, you…" Wanting to scold me, but too filled with happiness, she merely laughed aloud with joy. (Oh, how I loved to hear her laugh! It brightened the world of all who heard it!) Throwing her arms around me, she embraced me with a delight that was so becoming of her. "Come!" she cried. "To Anvard, so I can present King Lune with his truant son."

We interrogated Rabadash later, and when he roared out his ridiculous statement ("The bolt of Tash falls from above!"), I could not stop the now-immortal retort that sprang from my lips. "Does it ever get caught on a hook halfway?" It earned me a rebuke from my father and a murderous glare from Rabadash, but I only noticed the shoulders of Lucy shaking with mirth. Regardless of any other reaction, hers was the only one that mattered.

After the cross-examination of the Tisroc's son and the subsequent revelation of his…..animalistic side (courtesy of Aslan's personally-executed justice – though I could have told anyone from the start that the man was a jackass), we exited the keep and into the courtyard, where the soldiers began celebrating their victory. In the ensuing merriment as the minstrels began playing, the nobles and soldiers began dancing with their wives and sweethearts. As I watched the folk dancing, my heart was filled to overflowing with the joy of triumph. I had tasted my first victorious battle, and the peasant Shasta proved to be Cor, my elder twin. The tedious duties of a king were stripped away from me, and I was ecstatic.

I seized Lucy's hands and enthusiastically nodded toward the dancing frolic. Brave woman that she was, she instantly led me to the dancing circle by the great bonfire and gaily danced with me, disregarding my utter lack of ability in the finer aspects of the dance.

As we danced, faces flushed with exertion and happiness, I leaned in toward Lucy, hoping to catch her cheek with my lips. However, I did just as I was spinning her around in a circle, and my lips met hers instead of her cheek. It was quite accidental, and I was mortified. I broke away quickly, but her eyes met mine, betraying her amusement and easing my embarrassment into mirth. It was unintentional and totally inadvertent, nothing more, but to this day I've never forgotten it. It was the first time I'd ever kissed a girl – woman, rather, for at nineteen Lucy was no longer a young lass. It would be another two years before I was brave enough to kiss her again.

As the Narnians began their trek homeward the next day, I saw her off. "Good journey, friend Lucy. Archenland's Prince thanks Narnia's Queen." I bowed low, acting more like a jester than a king's son. She laughed (ah, that wonderful sound!). "Indeed, dear friend Corin, you truly have the mannerisms of a prince." She leaned down from her palfrey, kissing my forehead. "Fare thee well."

"Fare thee well, Lu."

As I watched my best friend leave Anvard, I looked back on how my life had changed in a fortnight. I had been to a hostile nation and back, my country had been saved, my long-lost twin brother was found, I was no longer the Crown Prince of Archenland (for which I was grateful), I had participated in my first battle, had killed my first enemy, and I'd had my first kiss. As I looked back on it, I realized that I wouldn't have wanted to experience any of it with anyone else but Lucy.

I had a strange feeling inside of me at this time that I couldn't explain. It had started right after I had kissed her, surfacing again every time I saw her. For two years, I wondered what the name of this feeling was, wondered what to call it. After two years of contemplating it, I finally discovered what it was and why it remained constant in my heart. Even now that I am an old man, that emotion remains the same. I still know its name, for I bear still it in my heart.

It was, and still is, love.

…

…

…

…

**Lucy's POV**

_Two years later..._

Relations between Narnia and Archenland, already good, deepened into a close alliance after Rabadash's attack on Anvard. Lune became a confidant, trusted ally, and kingly mentor to Peter and Edmund. Having been monarchs for nine years before this incident, my brothers were already well-versed as kings, but Lune and the alliance he fostered between our nations was nonetheless a gift from the Lion Himself. Trade increased between our two countries, our militaries trained together, and friendships were made between the nobles of both nations.

I saw Corin frequently, as I occasionally visited Anvard and Corin himself took every opportunity and excuse to come to Cair Paravel (or to any other part of Narnia, for that matter). Our royal advisor, Faun Tumnus, had always liked Corin, said he saw a bit of himself in the boy's rambunctious spirit. The two spent a week together at Tumnus's cave – the faun told me later that he had never felt younger. One can imagine my surprise when I came across my dear faun and the young Prince boxing – BOXING – in the training courtyard of Cair Paravel! Thankfully, Peter quickly stepped in and saved Tumnus from a near certain death at the fists of an overzealous youth.

Being a fighter was Corin's passion. Having been conveniently relieved of any duties as future king, he threw his energy into boxing. Corin Thunderfist, that's what men called him in those days. Never have I seen a lad take so much pride in a title before! He had been fighting Cor since he was thirteen (much to his brother's chagrin) and moved into the professional arena two years later. At fifteen, he was the youngest fighter to fight in a ring in the known history of the sport.

He had changed in the two years since the victory at Anvard, growing taller and much, much stronger. Cor was his master at swordplay, but hardly a man in the kingdom could stand against Corin fist to fist. His first official bout was in the presence of a worried brother and a doubting father, but Lune and Cor were stunned to see him emerge victorious against a young Archenlander soldier. Cor's future Calormene bride, Aravis, also in attendance, later related to me the universal shock that reigned at the event as a bruised and bloodied Corin stood over his vanquished opponent, having for the third time in succession knocked him down.

Nothing but victories followed the young Prince after that fight. I was repeatedly regaled with his stories of yet another victory in the sport, of yet another Archenland boxer falling before the professional fury of his Prince.

As his oldest and dearest friend, I was proud of Corin, though the sport of two men beating each other senseless rather revolted me. I told him as much, when I visited him at Anvard soon after his fifteenth fight (and fifteenth victory). We had been picnicking at the Archen River, watching Tumnus attempt once again to teach Cor how to skip rocks across the water. For a lad who lived most of his life by a Calormene river, he'd had a dreadfully boring existence.

"Come now, Lu" Corin grinned in response as he stretched out on the grass. "There's nothing so grand like the feeling of winning a bout. I feel like the manliest of men. You should try it; make a man out of yourself!"

My response was to drop to my knees beside him and land a well-aimed slap at the back of his head, causing him roll away, laughing aloud. "Believe me, young sir, it would be most unladylike for me to become a man." I said, regaining my feet, faux prim and proper with a quick curtsy, eliciting more laughter. "Should I ever hope to fight someone, please remember I have two brothers. 'Til then, feminine I shall remain."

"Praise Aslan!" he exclaimed, causing me to giggle. He continued to watch and chuckle at his brother's rather poor attempts at rock-skipping. His eyes soon wandered over to me. "I wouldn't want you any other way."

I smiled as I knelt down, storing the cold meat back into the picnic baskets and folding the blankets. Once I was finished, I joined Corin on the grass riverbank. We lay on the cool grass in silence, my eyes on the rippling water, his on the now-exasperated faun.

"I do it for you."

I had begun to doze off, but Corin's quiet statement jolted me into alertness, and I quickly turned my head to face him. He could sense my obvious question. "I know you wonder why I fight." He tilted his head towards me. "Am I right?"

"Yes."

"I do it for you."

I didn't know what he meant, or how to respond. "Corin?"

"I fight for you." My eyes were fastened on him now. He propped himself up on one elbow, slowly pulling up blades of grass. "Every time I face an opponent in the ring, I ignore the roar of the crowd and the sneers of my foe. The only thing on my mind is to fight in such a way as to make you proud of me. When I win, you're the only thing, the only one, on my mind." He fell silent, allowing me to sort through my surprise. He cocked his head to look me in the eye. "Are you?"

I was momentarily at a loss for words. Proud of him. He was asking me if I was proud of him. "Of course I am, Corin," I replied softly as I reached over to gently massage his broad shoulders. "Even if you lost, if you never won, I would still be proud."

"You would?" he whispered, his voice tinged with doubt.

"Aye," was my whispered reply.

He drew himself up, taking my hands in his. His eyes held my attention; I had never seen such emotion in them before. Several times he attempted to speak, yet failed each time, still holding my hands in his own.

Then, to my utter disbelief, he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to mine.

It was wrong, oh so wrong. At twenty-one years of age, I had no business kissing a fifteen-year-old boy. Yet to my own shock, I found myself responding, deepening the kiss, something within me strangely craving more of him. His hand came up, caressing the side of my face, toying with my hair.

He drew his body closer, and that's when I came to my senses. I pulled away from him with a gasp, breathing heavily. "Oh Aslan…" I whispered when I fully comprehended what had just occurred. Corin slowly leaned back, away from me. "Now you know."

"Know what?" I gasped

"How I truly feel about you. How I've felt about you for time out of mind, but never understood what it truly was. I love you, Lu – always have." He attempted to go on, but I scrambled to my feet. He kept his eyes on me, his gaze piercing me. I finally faced him (_By the Mane, when had he become so handsome?)_ and tried to speak, but words failed me. My eyes fell to the grassy hummock that he lay upon, my mind in an uproar. His gaze never left my face.

After an awkward silence, I raised my head to look at him. I could see the unspoken message in his eyes. S_tay with me, Lu. I beg you, stay here with me. Be mine and I will be yours. Just stay here with me, please_. I almost did, almost gave in to his silent plea, but in the end….."No," I whispered, slowly shaking my head. "No." I turned and left him there alone. I heard him rise, but he didn't follow me. I didn't look back, because I knew what I would've seen, and it would have broken my heart.

I would have seen Corin Thunderfist, Prince of Archenland, standing by the shores of the Archen River with tears running down his face.

…

…

**Corin's POV**

I had killed Calormene warriors. I had faced grown men in the ring and had emerged victorious every time. But my courage fled from me whenever I had faced the Queen of Narnia, until I finally decided to take heart and tell her of my love. On that afternoon, by the banks of the Archen River, I finally threw caution to the wind…..and lost a friend.

Aslan forgive me, I had not originally intended to be so forward, but I had struggled for two years with my inward affections for Lucy and was not willing to wait any longer. I should have expected her rejection – I was a boy, she was a woman. I gambled, demonstrated my passion, and lost everything.

She left, and I remained by the banks of the river. I couldn't stop the tears from making their way down my face. The last time I had cried was as a toddler, having been told that my mother had gone away to Aslan's Country and wouldn't be coming back. My young heart had broken, and I had shunned all attempts of comfort. Until I met the Narnian monarchs. Until I met Lucy. That's why I had loved her so much. Though Susan had been a second mother to me, Lucy had been a companion, a friend. She'd had pity on a four-year-old Prince of Archenland and had, over the years, healed his heart.

But this time, she left me there standing alone. And as I stood by the water watching her walk away from me, rejecting my love, it felt like whatever part of my heart she had healed was breaking again.


	3. Chapter Two

_So she took her love  
For to gaze awhile,  
Upon the fields of barley.  
In his arms she fell as her hair came down_

_Among the fields of gold._

**Corin's POV**

It was only a matter of days before Cor noticed my despondent demeanor. "What lack of cheer, brother?" he asked gaily in our shared quarters one evening.

"It's naught, but a fancy," I said quietly, hoping to end the conversation before it started, but he would have none of that. "I may be ignorant still in the affairs of state, Corin, but I recognize a jilted lover when he makes himself as obvious as you have. Who is this phantom maiden who has so disappointed a Prince of Archenland?"

"Your attempt at humor is not lost on me, brother dearest," I replied in a sarcastic tone, echoing the formal language my twin was oddly so fond of using. "I am indeed a 'jilted lover', as you so eloquently put it, but my affections are my own, and shall not be revealed to any except when I desire it."

Cor – good companion that he was – grew serious, and closed the door to our quarters. "Corin, let us act as the brothers we are and not have divisions between us. What is troubling you?" When I didn't respond immediately, he went on. "If my confidence is in question, be assured that my lips are sealed on this issue for so long as you desire it."

Once again, I felt grateful for my twin. I surrendered my silence and collapsed on my bed. "Cor, I kept my feelings to myself for two years – TWO YEARS, Cor – before I made them known to her, just to have her reject me. I haven't felt so broken since Mother died." My voice was starting to catch, my emotions catching up with me. "I would conquer the world for her and take on the Tisroc's armies singlehandedly if it meant winning her favor, but I'm afraid that I have failed. I can't love another, for she will always be at the forefront of my mind."

"Who is this damsel, brother? I can't think of any for whom you would feel this way – or would reject you, for that matter." A thought came to my brother's mind. "Is it Aravis?" he asked, somewhat worriedly.

"No indeed, my dear twin. I would never think of stealing my brother's heart's desire away from him. Oh, don't think of denying it, Cor," as my twin attempted to protest to the contrary. "I know you desire the young and beautiful Tarkheena for your future Queen, and for that matter you couldn't do much better."

"You think so?" Cor asked hopefully.

"Indeed. Make her yours, and die a happy man."

"I shall if she'll have me. But if she's not the one who haunts your dreams, then…..who?"

"Lucy."

It took my brother a few moments to grasp what I was saying, but when he grasped it, his eyes widened to an expanse that I didn't think physically possible. "Queen Luc…by the Mane, Corin!"

"I know, Cor," I sighed, as I lay back on my bed and closed my eyes, knowing that it would indeed take a miracle of Aslan for the woman of my dreams to love me in return, "I know."

…

…

I did not sleep well that night, tossing and turning as the hours waned from night to early morning. I had finally succeeded, succumbing to pure weariness, when I heard, of a sudden, footsteps in my room. A moment later, I felt hot breath upon my neck. Jerking up in surprise, expecting to find an intruder, I was halted by the sight of a Mane.

My breath caught in my throat, my eyes disbelieving what was before them. Lying still on my bed in complete shock, I spoke the words I never thought I would say that night.

"Aslan?"

The Lion chuckled in response. "Gave you a scare, I see."

"I-I-ah-yes, You did." I stammered. "I wasn't expecting You, I must admit."

"Yet you rest on the hope of a miracle." It was a statement, not a question, and it took me by surprise.

"What do You mean?"

"I know your innermost wishes and desires, dear Corin. I know that you admitted in your mind that it would be only by My working that Lucy would love you in return. That is why I came."

I looked over across the room at Cor, saw my brother fast asleep. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

Again the Lion chuckled. "Yes, you are. Do you want to wake up?"

"No!" I hadn't seen Aslan since the battle of Anvard and didn't want to wake up if it meant missing out on His visit. "But tell me, please, of Lucy."

Aslan curled down on the floor next to my bed. "What do you want to know?"

"I-" I then realized that I didn't know what to ask. Every question I thought I wanted to ask just didn't seem right. Will she ever love me? Is there someone else that she fancies? Am I merely wasting my energy? As the minutes ticked by, I finally began to realize the true question that plagued my mind. I got out of bed and dropped down next to the Lion, easing my back up against His side. "Do I love her, Aslan?"

The Almighty One seemed pleased with my question. "Allow Me to answer your question with one of My own: If she never loved you in return, would you still want her to be happy, without you at her side?"

_Just like Aslan to ask an extremely hard question_, I thought wryly as I pondered His query. Indeed, a hard question it was and I wrestled with it, but in the end, I was able to answer truthfully. "Yes, I would, with Your grace," I nodded. "I truly want her to be happy."

"Then you truly love her." Aslan seemed pleased with my answer as well. "It takes a mature youth to say what you just did. You've grown, dear one."

I laughed. "I'm glad You noticed."

He grinned. "I notice all, young prince. From your greatest desires to your deepest fears, I know them all. I know you truly love Lucy, though you alienated her with your rash actions by the river."

I winced; I was pretty sure I knew the reason why I would've alienated Lucy. "I…..shouldn't have kissed her." I admitted.

"It wasn't the wisest decision you've ever made," Aslan concurred. "though I understand why you did it. It is hard not demonstrating affection for those you love, even though they reject you."

I looked into the Lion's eyes and then realized He knew. He knew what it was like to love those who spurned Him – those like me who had not even bothered to inquire after Him for two years. The knowledge of this broke my heart, and tears burned in my eyes as I threw my arms around His neck. "And You still love me? After I've ignored You and all You've done for my country, You still care for me? How, dearest Aslan, how?"

I felt the paws of the Almighty Lion circle me, enfolding me in the power of His devotion. "The lowest father still bears some feelings of good will for the children of his loins. I love you, Corin, with same love that My Father loves Me. You, Corin, are the apple of My eye, and My love for you will never change, just as I Myself never change."

I don't know long how we remained in that embrace; I didn't count the minutes. I only knew that I never wanted this to end, and that I would NEVER take Aslan for granted again. Surrounded by the warmth and power of His paws, I silently swore to follow Him in whatever path He would lead me on – if it would lead to a life without Lucy, so be it. Indeed, if it would lead to my death, so be it. I was the Lion's, and He was mine – and I didn't want in any other way.

"I must leave soon, dear son," Aslan finally said. "but before I do, remember this – put your faith in Me, leave your future to Me, and I will give you the true desires of your heart."

"What must I do, Aslan? Is there any action I must take to do this, to follow You?" I asked as I slowly pulled away from Him.

The Lion stood and quietly shook himself before turning to face me again. "When the time comes, know this – true love is not in words. It manifests itself in deeds, in actions. It shows itself to the poor and lowly in the form of the high and powerful. To show true love, one must be courageous and willing to fight for those he loves, even when others question him. Remember this, when the time comes for you to act on it." He then looked on me with fondness before turning away. "Until next time, My dear son, farewell."

"Aslan?" I quickly said. He turned back to me, expectantly. "Forgive me?" I whispered.

His eyes softened as He smiled, slowly nodding His head. "That is what I do." He whispered in return. Before I could say another word, He was gone.

I woke the next morning; and indeed, it had been a dream.

…

…

…

…

_9 months later…_

That encounter changed me. I don't mean a passing fancy or an altered opinion, I mean it truly left me a different individual. Aslan's parting words stayed with me and burned their way into my mind for good. The timing of them had me impressed.

We'd been forced to endure a hard winter, and famine had hit the lesser-fortunate of my countrymen pretty hard. I could walk from one end of Anvard to the other and see the streets lined with beggars, parents reduced to begging for bread for their children's survival.

What had been worse was the utter disinterest displayed by the majority of Parliament to the plight of these people. The members of that establishment received a pension off of high taxes wrung from the peasantry, which had always been sore spot among the commoners – even more so now, as men were struggling to feed their families while tax collectors took the majority of their income. Things were quickly coming to a head, and certain people were worried about what actions desperate men might take. My father had done everything in his own personal power to aid his people, but he couldn't – Aslan bless my father and his gentle spirit, like as not he _wouldn't_ – force Parliament to act.

"…_true love is not in words. It manifests itself in deeds, in actions. It shows itself to the poor and lowly in the form of the high and powerful_." Aslan's words rang in my ears as I walked through the poor side of our capital city early one morning, walking among mere huts where families were struggling to survive, tears threatening my eyes at the sight of my people lowered to such a state.

"Prince Corin, Prince Corin!" I heard young children cry out with glee, calling to their parents that their Prince was walking by. One small boy, grinning from ear to ear, stopped in front of me and put his fists up in a boxer's stance. I hadn't realized my boxing exploits had been so noticed by the common people, and I laughed as I sparred with the little tyke for several minutes. I ruffled his hair after we were through, and he laughed with merriment as he ran off. However, my smile faded as I noticed for the first time the rags the boy was wearing, the lack of shoes on his feet. As I looked around, I began to understand the true plight of these people, realizing that this youngling appeared no different than any other child I could see.

As I continued my somber stroll, I was quickly becoming the focal point, the object of everyone's attention. Men halted their labors and women stepped out of their shacks to look me over, and I was stunned at the look of hopelessness in their eyes. One man, braver than the rest, called out to me, "Is there nothing we can do, your Highness? Is-is there nothing – nothing at all - that Parliament can do?"

I'd seen enough by this point, and my fury at the inaction of Parliament had reached a breaking point. "I don't know, my good man" was my calm reply, though inside I was raging. "But by the Mane, there IS something I will do." With that, I turned on my heel and strode back toward Anvard Castle.

…

…

I met Cor coming out of the gate, and he called out to me. "Ho brother! Where are you off to?"

"To find you, actually. Are you attending Parliament this morning?"

He scowled. "Behold the Crown Prince of Archenland," he said, shaking his head. "I'm afraid I must."

"Good, 'cause I'm going with you."

I continued striding toward Parliament Hall even as Cor came to an abrupt halt, staring at me in sheer astonishment. "You, to Parliament! By the-hey, wait up!" When he caught up to me, he was muttering to himself. "Corin, my twin – sitting through a Parliament session – never thought I'd see the day."

After a short pause where I brooded and he tried to keep up with my long strides, he tried to talk me out of it. "Corin, nothing is happening today. They're only…well, you know Parliament – they're all a crew of old men who hardly get around to matters of state after all the cordialities have been concluded. Especially today. We have literally nothing on the agenda."

"Then what are you going for?"

Cor scowled again. "I guess just to prove that King Lune does indeed have an heir. I'll just sit there as usual, being seen and not heard."

"I don't intend to 'sit' through much of it, my dear brother. And Parliament will hear me today!" Once again, my brother came to halt, and I left him standing there as he gaped. But I soon heard shuffling feet, and he quickly caught up with me again, reaching up to grasp my shoulder and pulling me to a stop.

"Corin, whatever you're planning – don't!" When I ignored him and continued striding toward Parliament Hall, he became somewhat angry. "For the love of Mount Pire, brother, what by all that is holy is so important that you would risk our royal reputation and honor to make a spectacle of yourself in Parliament?"

At that, I halted. We were directly outside of the great Parliament building anyways. "Them, Cor!" I hissed, jabbing my finger in the general direction of where I'd just come. "Our people – MY people – are starving to death. And what has Parliament done? NOTHING! They've sat by in their fat chairs, nursing their fat pensions – pensions wrung from insanely high taxes on the peasantry, I might add – and care nothing for the common man to whom they owe everything! I have seen this with my own eyes, Cor, and I will NOT stand for it any longer!"

Cor stood silent, a kind of slack-jawed grin on his face, his gaze never leaving mine. After a while, he chuckled and shook his head, still staring at me with a sort of surprise.

"What?"

"You!" Cor chortled. "You actually care!" When he caught sight of my bewildered stare, he hastened to explain. "We've all been worried – me, Aravis, Father – that you've cared only for your boxing and felt no sense of obligation as a prince for your own people, but now…" Cor trailed off, still chuckling.

"'But now' what?" I asked sourly, feeling a bit sore that my own family had thought so low of me.

Cor looked up at me, and I was surprised to see a look of veneration in his gaze. "But now, my dear twin, I realize that you care more for our people than most. I'm not ashamed to say I was wrong about you, Corin – in fact, we all were."

Cor told me years later that he wanted nothing more than to pull me into an embrace at that moment, but denied himself that desire on fear of me knocking him down. He was right – I would have knocked him down. But to this day, I've never forgotten how grand it felt as my brother looked on me with pride and admiration.

"Come," he then said. "The time is at hand, Parliament will begin shortly, and I know I won't want to miss the events of today!"

…

…

I had never sat in Parliament before, but had heard enough from Cor and Father to understand the gist of how the formalities transpired. I had been in the Parliament Hall several times before unofficially, but the grandeur of the Hall never ceased to amaze me. Archenland's architects had outdone themselves in the creation of this structure.

Each noble who held a position in Parliament had their own seat in the Hall, and they reclined in circular formation as those who held the floor spoke in the midst of them. The chair of the King and Crown Prince were at the head of the formation, and Cor quickly joined our father. I did not seat myself with either Cor or Father, as I did not want to attract the attention, surprise, and indeed, suspicion of the nobles. I held back, waiting by the entrance for nigh on an hour as formalities were exchanged ad nauseum and welcomes made and given many times over.

Finally, my father stood to formally open the proceedings. "Knights and noblemen of Archenland, I, Lune, King of these lands, proclaim Parliament to be in session."

"Hear, hear," came the round of concurrence from the seated men.

"Who among you will open today's proceedings?"

"That will I." I heard a sharp intake of breath from each man in the Hall as I stepped forward into the expansive circle. "I, Prince Corin of Archenland, son of the King, wishes to speak to Parliament!"

I knew this to be highly irregular – if nothing else, the shocked gaze on each noble's face was enough to inform me of that – but no law in Archenland forbade a Prince from addressing Parliament. I knew this, they knew this, and so my stunned father waved his hand for me to continue. "Parliament recognizes Prince Corin, son of the King."

I inclined my head to the Royal Chair before turning to face the nobles. "It is to you, knights of this realm, that I wish to speak." I calmly said, as I looked from face to face. "For I, Corin, Prince of Archenland, son of the King, accuse you noblemen of base treachery against the people of this land!"

At first, a shocked silence reigned in the Hall. Then came the shouts of anger as incensed men rose from their chairs, demanding that I retract my insults against their character. A minority of them stayed seated, those who were extremely loyal to my father and slow to wrath against his son. I heard the Royal gavel pounding from my father's seat, calling for silence. "Quiet, quiet, all of you! The Prince still holds the floor!" As furious men sank back into their seats, one of them stayed on his feet. "Does the Prince yield the floor?" he cried.

"Indeed, I do not, Lord Kollin," was my reply. "For your Prince is not through speaking." As murmurs grew louder, I raised my hands for silence. "My Lords, have you not walked among the streets of our capitol city?" I looked around for responses. Most of the men merely glowered at me, but I saw some of the more honorable knights nodding their heads. "I have, my Lords. I have seen sights that I thought never to see in all of Archenland." The visions of misery that I had seen just that morning rose again before my eyes, and I was briefly overcome, lowering my head at the memory.

Quickly blinking the threatening tears out of my eyes, I raised my head to look on the dozens of landed gentry around me. "The common man, my Lords, feels hunger just as keenly as you privileged men do. His love for his wife and children is just as deep as yours. His blood flows just as red in his veins. AND YET YOU TAX HIM UNTIL HE IS DESTITUTE, PLACE HIM IN PRISON FOR DEBTS THAT HAVE BEEN FORCED UPON HIM, LEAVE HIS FAMILY TO AN UNCERTAIN FATE, AND USE HIS MONEY TO BUY A NEW HUNTING DOG! AND THIS IS WHAT ARCHENLAND'S NOBLES CALL JUSTICE?"

By this time, I was now practically roaring at the most powerful men in the land, and they were not taking it too kindly. Halfway through my tirade, the majority of the nobles had jumped to their feet again, angrily denouncing me, calling on my father to silence me, and cursing me through their teeth. Others, those who had a tad more character than some of their peers, argued amongst themselves as to the justification of my accusation and the truthfulness of my words.

"Will the Prince yield the floor!" This from Lord Kollin again, as he glared at me with a murderous glint in his eyes. "The nobles of Parliament MUST be allowed to respond to these grossly unjust allegations!"

"Hear, hear!" came the cries of assent all around as the tumult died down

My father turned from Lord Kollin to me, the obvious question in his eyes. I could see Cor behind him, slowly shaking his head, silently warning me not to give in to Kollin. With my temper under control, I smiled, but shook my head. "I, Prince Corin of Archenland, will share the floor with Lord Kollin, but not yield it." It was good enough for Kollin, and he stepped out into the middle of the circle, still glaring at me.

I didn't know much about Lord Kollin, except that he had been a dashing soldier in his youth and had made a name for himself in various military campaigns. Yet he'd always had the reputation of seeking his own advancement over all else. He had gained that which he had always wanted - a title, lands, and a seat in Parliament. His gallant soldier days were long gone, and in their place had come a fat, dour old man with a fantastic penchant for arguing. I was not at all surprised at his willingness to challenge me.

He inclined his head toward the Royal Chair, then turned back toward his peers. "What we have heard today, my peers, is nothing less than anarchy and sedition on the part of a young boy who knows nothing – NOTHING – of life outside of his royal quarters and sporting events! This, young prince" and he jabbed his finger at me "is Parliament, and we do not take kindly to ignorant youths lecturing noblemen! Remember who we are, Corin of Archenland, before you dare speak to us again!"

I took a few steps toward Kollin, fixing him with the coldest, hardest glare I could muster. He was surprised and I could see his bravado melt under my cool gaze. "I would remember to whom YOU are speaking, Lord Kollin, were I a wiser man," was my calm reply. He didn't respond, silenced by my obvious warning that my princely title DID provide me some rights, privileges, and authority.

I noticed a shift in the atmosphere of the Hall. I began to see looks of respect in the eyes of the Lords of Archenland as they silently absorbed my rebuke of Kollin. For all their faults, they were loyal to the Crown, and my subtle vindication of my royal privileges seemed to awaken their loyalty to me as their Prince. The fat lord sputtered for a bit, realizing that I was not going to be intimidated by his threats. "I-uh-now-fellow knights!" he finally was able to say. "I tell you now that if we attempt to concede in even a small way to the commoners, they will crave more, and we will find a revolt of greedy, money-lusting masses upon us!"

"Such a revolt that you fear, Lord Kollin, will be upon you sooner than you think if you do NOT attempt to ease their suffering!" I retorted. "I am not blind nor indifferent to the desperation that men must be feeling now, especially since more than half of the wages they earn are taken from them to line the pockets of noblemen, some of whom are members of this Parliament!" Let them think on that for awhile, I thought. "And if you want to speak of greedy, money-lusting men, Lord Kollin, I believe you can find the greatest example of one staring back at you in a mirror."

"Hear, hear!" came the cry from the twin Lords Dar and Darrin as their fists crashed on the arms of their Parliament chairs. I glanced over to them, a slight grin on my face and a silent thank you in my eyes (As military attachés to Parliament, Dar and Darrin were not of the same breed as many of the men around them). They understood, and slightly tilted their heads in acknowledgment. Around them, the Lords of Parliament were whispering among themselves – but this time, I could see that they were seriously considering my words and the implications of their inaction.

One nobleman, Lord Tallum, rose from his chair. I knew him on a more personal level than I did the others, for he was the benefactor, patron, and sponsor of Archenland sports – boxing in particular – and I had interacted with him many times on issues pertaining to my bouts. I grinned and motioned for him to speak.

"A question, Prince Corin. What are you proposing, in particular, that Parliament do to aid the people?"

"Do away with your tax-funded pensions. This will greatly decrease the strain on the families that are struggling to survive in the streets." I turned away from Lord Tallum to face all of the men. "Admit to yourselves, my Lords of Parliament – this pension is not necessary. You receive an annual annuity from the Crown and combined with the economy and income made off of your estate farms and the like, you have more than enough to provide for your households and dependents."

I half-expected my recommendation to unleash a whole new round of agitation among the knights in the Hall, but instead I observed many of them nodding, silently admitting the truth of my words. A few – the faction of Lord Kollin – were still scowling, whispering amongst themselves. I knew they were plotting to defeat my proposal, and I steeled myself for a potential confrontation. Lord Kollin had joined them in their quiet conversation, but now he arose once more.

"And if we do not, young Prince?"

I was expecting this. "Then you can indeed expect desperate men to take desperate measures – and the blood that will be shed as a result will be on your heads."

Kollin let out a bark of laughter. "Aye, you would probably like to see that, wouldn't you, little prince? You would enjoy the spectacle of Lord Kollin besieged in his own Keep by angry hordes of starving people, would you not?"

I stood resolute, holding Kollin's sneering gaze with my own, neither of us willing to back down. Finally I spoke. "You can ask me again on that day, Lord Kollin, for if Archenland men besiege you in your own Keep for robbing them of their hard-earned wages and keeping them from providing their families with basic sustenance, be assured – I will be at their head, standing with them side-by-side, joining my destiny to theirs. And on that day, you can ask me if I enjoy it."

Any questions of the sincerity of my words prior to this were now answered. Kollin, finally realizing that he was beaten, that popular opinion in Parliament had shifted, returned to his chair, not to rise again for the remainder of the day. In this conflict, I had emerged victorious.

But I still had to convince Parliament to take action, and the decisive moment was at hand. I took a deep breath. _May Aslan attend me._ "My Lords," I said, my voice somewhat quieter than it had been. "Many of you have served Archenland faithfully. I know of your loyalty to the Crown and to this country. I now call on you to fulfill your knightly oath to Archenland's people. Lighten their burdens, and they will thank you on their knees. In so doing, you will honor Aslan – and the man who honors the Lion will be honored by the Lion in return." I stood straight and tall, confident I had done what I could. "My Lords, I leave the fate of my people to you. Corin, Prince of Archenland, son of the King, yields the floor."

I had made history. No prince of Archenland had ever addressed Parliament, and I had gone in there and turned it on its head. As I inclined my head one last time to the Royal Chair, Cor started clapping. Leave it to my brother to get all emotional over a speech. But he stood and continued his applause. Soon he wasn't the only one – Dar and Darrin had risen and joined him. After them it was Lord Tallum. When it was all said and done, virtually every nobleman in the Hall had risen and were applauding, with the obvious exception of Lord Kollin's faction.

I knew then, it was over. The common man would now have a ray of hope in these bleak times – and with Aslan's grace, it would only get better from here on. I strode out of Parliament Hall that day with applause ringing in my ears and the sound of Lord Tallum crying, "I motion that we adopt Prince Corin's proposal as law. Who will be my second?" I heard multiple men cry out "Second!" and knew that I had won.

As I stepped out into the street and once more breathed in the free air of my country, that familiar thought crept into my mind. I wonder if Lucy would be proud of me… But this time, it didn't matter. Yes, I still loved her, always would, but with the aid of the Lion I was finally able to look beyond that which I didn't have and be grateful for that which I did. I would always want Lucy to be proud of me, but now I wanted the favor of a Lion more than that of a Queen.

On this day, I knew I had gained Aslan's approval. By His aid, I had walked into a hostile environment and had pleaded for the deliverance of my people. By His grace, I had demanded that relief be given to those who needed it most. By His influence, a powerful body of men had responded to a call for justice. And by His mercy, it was justice that had carried the day.


	4. Chapter Three

_Will you stay with me; will you be my love,_

_Among the fields of barley?  
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky  
As we lie in the fields of gold._

**Corin's POV**

I didn't have to wait long to find out the results of the Parliamentary decision. Within minutes of my final appeal, runners – young boys employed by the noblemen to carry and distribute news to the marketplaces – burst out of the very doors I had just exited and began tearing down the streets and byways to the more inhabited areas of Anvard. I heard with joy their cries. "Parliament elects to end tax-funded pensions!" "Prince Corin's call for relief of commoners wins over majority of Parliament!" I'd had every assurance of victory when I exited the Hall, but this confirmation elated me, and I pumped my clenched fist in exultation. "Yes, yes!" I exclaimed over and over again. "Thank You, Aslan!"

I must have said "Thank You, Aslan" at least thirty times when I was spun around by a euphoric and out-of-breath brother. "By the white summit of Stormness!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "You…they…it…victory!" he finally managed to cry out, throwing his arms in the air.

I laughed aloud, the joy emanating from my twin affecting me as well. "I know, Cor. Seeing how fast the runners were sprinting, I imagine that half the kingdom knows by now."

Cor caught his breath and slung his arm over my shoulder. "You, my twin, are the greatest thing Archenland has seen since Pire was slain by Sir Olvin – and Olvin can't claim to have exited Parliament Hall to a standing ovation"

I grinned. "You realize that was five-and-a-half centuries ago?"

"Precisely my point!" Cor yelled, still euphoric. "No prince has ever addressed our Parliament! You, on the other hand, insulted them, called them traitors, threatened to lead a popular revolt of Archenland peasants, and then persuaded the vast majority of them to support your proposal. I don't understand it – is this just all in a day's work for you?" Cor sighed, shaking his head. "Sometimes I honestly believe you would be the better king of the two of us."

"Don't say that." I scowled playfully. "You've already robbed me of my kingdom; I'll knock you down if you try to give it back."

My brother inclined his head in mock defeat. "Oh alright, if I must. Mark my words, I'll be the only king ever in our history to reign under a prince's shadow. You know as well as I do that you're a folk hero from this day forward." Again he shook his head. "I don't know how I'll ever live up to the kingly standard."

"You'll make it as king because I'll be standing behind you every step of the way – you know this, Cor." I smiled as I said this, but I was deeply sincere. "I'm just a no-name prince. You, on the other hand, were born royalty, yet lived most of your life as a peasant – a slave, more like it - before escaping with a Calormene Tarkheena and saving your native country from a dastard's plan of revenge. The people are enamored with you, my twin! All you have left to do is ascend to the throne – and, of course, marry the Tarkheena." I said with a wink.

Cor quickly looked over at me, a playful grin on his face. "Yes indeed, marry the Tarkheena I must," he said coyly. "But thank you, Corin, for your words. I grew up without the love of a brother, and I will need it to effectively rule this land of ours. Your support of my throne will be invaluable, especially now."

"And you will always have it." My tone was jovial, but I was serious. "This I swear by the Mane of the Lion. Come, let us walk back to the Keep."

We began walking – rather leisurely – back to our home, weaving our way through the crowds that gathered daily in Anvard's marketplaces, neither of us in any hurry. We both wanted to savor this day, as passerbys saw us and cried out salutations which we cheerily returned. But after a short silence, I had a thought. "So what will come first, do you think – your throne or your marriage?"

Cor laughed. "Hopefully my marriage, if Aravis doesn't torture me with a temporary refusal. Our good father could live for many years, and I have no interest in waiting for a bride – though she can't decide between you and me."

"What?"

"Oh yes. She told me quite frankly several days ago that she didn't know which of us she likes best. She said it ought to be you, since you're the rough-and-tumble kind. Rather like her, if I may say so. I wouldn't be surprised if I lost out to you…again."

I shook my head. "Opposites, my dear twin, opposites are the key. They are what attract people together. I love Aravis dearly as a sister, but Aslan knows I could never love her as anything else. We are too alike, you know this. You, on the other hand, are the sensible one among us – you two are perfect for each other. Besides," I grinned wickedly, "she said she _likes_ me best, which likely means she _loves_ you best."

A grin slowly widened over my brother's features. "I like your logic, Corin. However illogical it may be, I like it very much."

At that, I had to stop walking – I was laughing too hard. "By Pire's summits, Cor!" I finally gasped, clutching the stone wall lined alongside the cobblestone road to keep my balance, ignoring the looks I was receiving from bystanders. "Don't torture yourself any longer – it's starting to torture me! Just buck yourself up, lad, and ask the girl!"

"Oh, very humorous art thou, dear brother mine," Cor glowered, though his eyes were twinkling with mirth – his response was only causing me to laugh harder. "Know that you will be among the first to know if I make a formal proposition to my lady love."

"Praise be!" I said as soon as I was able to regain my voice. "I eagerly await the day. But tell me – exactly how did it fare in the Hall after I left?"

Cor let out a chuckle. "The vote was all but unanimous. Half of Parliament wanted to be Lord Tallum's second, and Dar and Darrin called for an immediate vote. After the usual last-minute discussion over the precise wording of the resolution, no one dared speak out against it. Even Lord Kollin's faction deserted him."

"And Lord Kollin himself?"

Cor shook his head. "Opposed to the end, hence the 'all but unanimous' bit. Don't fret over him, though – he knew he was beaten before the vote was called. You beat him, brother mine, no one disputes that. Your resolution passed without a hitch and is effective tomorrow. You've won, plain and simple."

I smiled, but shook my head. "No Cor," I said quietly, looking out at the usual hustle and bustle of Anvard's streets, gazing at the common people passing us by, completing their daily duties, feeling relieved in my heart once again that a tragedy had been averted. "They won."

…

…

We were silent as we resumed our stroll. Several minutes passed before we heard a somewhat frantic voice behind us. "Your Highnesses!"

We both turned instantly to see a half-running, half-walking Lord Tallum making haste after us, pressing his way through the crowds. Cor instantly trotted back to him with myself directly behind him and the knight slowed his pace, a smile of gratitude on his lips.

"My thanks, good sirs," he panted. "I'm not as youthful any longer as I want myself to be."

My brother laughed as I grinned and reached out to steady the good nobleman on his feet. "Pace yourself, my good man. With grey hairs comes greater insight, not greater fleetness of foot."

"I will grant you that, my Prince." Tallum laughed. "And may I also congratulate you, for your words in the Hall this day have changed the hearts and minds of the most influential men in the land. This day should've come much earlier, and it is a mark on our character that it took someone from outside our ranks to open our eyes. But you have done that, and Archenland is the better for it"

I cast my eyes downward, abashed at Tallum's praise. "Aslan cares for His own, Sir Tallum, and it was none other than He who raised me up to argue on the common man's behalf. To the Lion should the ultimate praise go; not to me, who merely acted as His obedient messenger."

The elder man's eyes were shining by the time I fell silent. "Would that Aslan had blessed me with a son such as you, but I give Him thanks for allowing me to serve such a Prince." he said quietly. Cor murmured his assent as the knight quickly cleared his throat. "But I digress. I was commissioned by His Majesty your father to bring two items of business to your attention, the first being the Narnian Spring Solstice Festival and Tournament at Cair Paravel."

I had overlooked that event entirely. Cor looked guilty. "My fault – I was supposed to remind you," before turning back to Tallum. "And what was it our father wanted us know about the Festival?"

"Just if either of you were taking part in the jousting or the knight's tournament?"

I laughed. "If there's no contest that allows me to bash a man's face in, I'm not taking part in it. Cor here is the better swordsman by far of the two of us."

"Duly noted." Tallum chuckled. "I come then to the second item of business; as you, Prince Corin, walked out of the Hall, I remembered of a sudden that you were scheduled for a boxing bout in the near future."

I am? For once in my sixteen years of life, I was at a loss for words. I hadn't trained in over a week, my thoughts and attention focused on a plethora of different events ranging from Lucy to Aslan to the present national crisis. Add to that the events of today, and all thoughts of boxing had vanished from my head. If I had a match anytime soon, I was in trouble. "When in the near future, Lord Tallum?"

My face must have betrayed my dismay, for the man gave me an almost apologetic smile before he hesitatingly answered. "Tonight, Your Highness."

…

…

…

…

_Three months later…_

Two days. I had been present at Cair Paravel for two whole days and nary a word had passed between myself and the object of my silent affections. If I had wondered if she remembered the course of events that took place between her and I at the Archen River, all doubt and wondering was gone.

…

…

Cor, myself, and the Archenland delegation had arrived at Cair Paravel the day prior to the Festival. King Edmund had met us in the courtyard as we cantered in, shaking Cor's hand and slapping me on the back in his normal jolly manner of greeting old friends. Queen Susan was right behind him, and laughed softly as I kissed her hand and said "Well met, mother," as had been my pet name for her the past ten years.

"How fares the High King?" Cor had asked as he helped Aravis down from her palfrey. Lord Peridan, who had just come on the scene and was greeting our convoy, replied. "He rides from the North with Her Majesty Queen Lucy and General Oreius, and will be arriving at the Cair early on the morrow, before the festival begins." More was said, as greetings and blessings were bestowed all around, but I heard scarcely little. Peridan's words reminded me of whom I was to see again for the first time in little under a year, and my heart quickened. _Steady, old boy, steady. Oh, but bother everything, why did you have to go and kiss the girl in the first place? Blast you, Corin, certain times you are worth hating!_

My mental strain calmed later on in the evening, as the Narnians wined and dined us in the great dining hall of Cair Paravel. My father had stayed behind at Anvard this time with the majority of Parliament in order to sort out official business, but many of our knights and their ladies had traveled with Cor and I into Narnia, and they were delighted to see their Narnian counterparts once again. Many old friendships were being revived, and I was no stranger to it, enjoying a marvelous conversation with my old friend Tumnus.

Soon enough, Tumnus was asked to dance, and I laughingly encouraged him to go ahead. The night was fast becoming a merry one of drink, music, and dancing, and watching Cor and Aravis dance together was like a balm. For the first time since their dramatic escape from Calormen, Aravis looked truly happy. It was obvious to all that my brother and the Tarkheena had an unspoken understanding between them that wouldn't be unspoken for long. Watching my twin gaze into the eyes of his (undeclared) beloved and seeing the utter joy at his knowledge that all he had to do was finally ask created a feeling of contentment in me. All was right in the world – or at least in Anvard – if Cor and Aravis loved each other.

But just as soon as my gratification came, it left me, and I was left reclining on the knee-length marble columns with only my wine to comfort me, wondering in my heart if I would ever have what Cor had…if I would ever gaze into Lucy's eyes and see the love shining in them that Cor saw in Aravis…if Aslan's will had us to be forever separated and my love to remain forever inside of me, never declared.

I was Corin Thunderfist, He Who Feared No Man – but lo, I feared this.

My eyes clouded, and I moaned quietly as my fears and grief swiftly overtook me. I quickly dashed the tears out of my eyes and sipped my wine, but I wasn't fast enough to escape the notice of a Gentle Queen.

"What is it, Corin?"

I hadn't heard anyone come up behind me, and I was surprised to see Queen Susan seated next to me. "'Tis nothing, good lady."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Now I know something is wrong."

"How so?"

"Because you've never called me 'good lady' once in your life."

That confident, matter-of-fact statement surprised me, and a chuckle escaped from my throat as I bowed my head in mock defeat. "You always could read me like a book, mother." I said, slipping into an informal tone.

"That I could," Susan smiled, easing into the motherly role she'd been to me for the past twelve years, "and I can read you now. What is it that troubles you?"

My gaze fell on the dancers, Cor and Aravis in the midst of them. "Have you ever wanted something or someone so bad that you felt your life couldn't go on without attaining it?" I asked, turning my eyes back to her

I had hit a nerve unknowingly, for her beautiful face tightened and I could see sorrow take hold in her eyes. "Yes," she nodded. "and I thought I had finally attained it in Tashbaan."

_Rabadash_. "I thought he truly loved me," she went on, eyes beginning to glisten. "But alas, there was only room for one in his heart."

"And that was himself." I finished her sentence. I could see the unshed tears in her eyes, and I hated the Calormene prince for it. "He merely wanted another concubine to round out his collection." I was angry now, furious at the one who would have treated my surrogate mother in such a fashion. "I should have run him through when I had the chance, before Anvard's walls."

"It isn't him, Corin," Susan said hastily, blinking away the moistness in her eyes. "It was that I wanted – still want – to find a man to love, and to be loved in return." She sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if I ever will find such a man."

I hated to see her cry. I tried to cheer her up in the time-honored way I knew how – by being outrageous. "Must be awkward at times, being called 'mother' when no man calls you 'wife'." Susan looked up at me, surprised at my decidedly delicate words, but saw the corners of my mouth twitching upwards. "You scoundrel!" she exclaimed, swatting my shoulder as I laughed. "No indeed, no one has yet accused me of any impropriety in that regard." The Gentle Queen tried to look severe, but failed miserably, soon laughing along with me. "Oh, dearest Corin, you would be the death of civilization and royal manners were it not for my patience."

I winced, remembering my lessons in propriety as a young boy with Susan as my teacher, trying my best to fail and discovering in the process how ungentle the Gentle Queen could be. "You were a mother to me in word and deed, no doubt there – as you always have been," I quickly added, remembering how the young Susan had opened her heart to a hurting child and tried her best to take the place of his lost mother. "I never would've amounted to anything without you."

Her hand was warm on my shoulder and her smile was a salve. "From that first day I saw you as a young child, I have always loved you as my little boy." She softly pulled my head down until it was resting on her lap and I was stretched out on the marble ledge, like we used to do in times past. "I never knew your mother, Corin, but I've loved her son as my own, and I've tried to be a good mother to him in her place." Her fingers were playing with my hair, something she hadn't done in years, and suddenly I realized how much I had missed her and her "mothering". "Now tell me, little one" she said with a grin, knowingly using the nickname I had always hated, "what's wrong?"

I sighed deeply, not knowing what to say. "Believe me when I say that I cannot speak of it to you yet," I finally said, my head still buried in her lap. "But also believe me when I say that you will be among the first to know when I make it public."

I could tell that wasn't what she wanted to hear, but she slowly nodded. "Very well then, I shall await the day when you tell me the name of the maiden you are pining for. Yes, my dear boy, I CAN read you perfectly," as my shocked gaze met hers. "But I will honor your discretion."

"You have my thanks," I muttered.

"And you," she said brightly, "have my respect. For I've heard tales of your exploits in fair Anvard, both in the ring and in Parliament Hall, and I must say both are very impressive."

I groaned. "I beg you, do not remind me of the fight! I am lucky to have escaped with my life." I may have exaggerated some, but not much.

The Gently Queen laughed aloud, drawing attention from a few of the dancers. "Yes, your royal father wrote to us describing your appearance immediately following the match. I warrant you will not forget another bout again."

The fight of which we spoke had taken place the night of my now-famous address to Parliament – a fight of which I had forgotten entirely and was reminded of that morning. My opponent was a naval officer in our royal navy and a very trim and fit young man. Lord Tallum had offered to postpone the fight, but I declined, deigning to go on with the bout as planned.

It was the circumstances of the fight that had gained significant attention. News of my Parliamentary address and the end result had made its way around Anvard like wildfire, and the commoners were ecstatic. They had crowded into the city square that night to cheer me on. I do believe they willed me to victory.

My opponent had fought hard, and I was sorely out of shape. Four times I was knocked down, and blood was dripping from my nose and jaw by the middle rounds. I had lost every round up until the last one, when a sudden flurry of punches rocked my foe back on his heels. Seeing my last hope, I had cornered him and lashed out with everything I had left, pummeling my rival with body shots to the ribs and abdomen. As he instinctively lowered his hands to protect his lower body, I threw my left fist into his jaw. Seconds later, my right fist also connected with his jaw and down he went. He had to be helped to his feet moments after I was declared the winner.

I was exhausted and close to death – so I felt – but was carried back to Anvard Keep on the shoulders of exuberant and grateful Archenlanders. As Cor and our menservants helped me inside just before I collapsed from pain and exhaustion, I heard the roar of the crowd one last time.

"_Corin! Corin! Corin!"_ Over and over they shouted my name. From that day forward, Cor's prediction had come true. I was a folk hero in the eyes of my people. I couldn't walk down a back alley without an escort of commoners. I was welcome at every hearth and home in Anvard. Songs and ballads had been written (unnecessarily, in my opinion) about brave Prince Corin staring down his angry foes in Parliament Hall, boldly standing for the rights of his people. As Aravis had told me privately, "You showed your love for your people – now they are returning the goodwill."

"I merely did in Parliament what any good Prince should have done in aid of his countrymen." I finally said, hoisting myself up to stand over Susan. "You would've done the same."

My "mother" smiled. "But no one could ever rival your passion, my boy. That has always set you apart – sometimes for good, sometimes not. Now it has gained you the respect of a nation, and it will gain you the eye of the damsel for whom your heart yearns. Of that I do not doubt." She smiled warmly and grasped my hand. "Now be a dear and fetch your 'mum' another glass of wine before she turns in for the evening, will you?"

I bowed like a court jester. "Anything for you, mum." Her laughter was music to my ears as I moved through the crowd toward the wine. As I poured her a glass, my mind went to her words. "…and it will gain you the eye of the damsel for whom your heart yearns. Of that I do not doubt."

_If only it could, mother…if only it could._

Later that night, after Cor saw Aravis off to her chambers, he came whistling back to ours. "By the Mane, what a night!" he said jovially. "These Narnian chaps definitely know how to put on good entertainment. My legs are positively worn out, but a good night's rest will do them a world of good." He collapsed on his bed. "And their beds are divine!"

I remained silent, my mind on tomorrow's events and the fact that I would see Lucy again for the first time in twelve months. Cor seemed to realize this as well, as his jovial mood lessened a bit. "Are you ready for the morrow?" he asked, and I could tell he wasn't just referring to the Festival.

I shrugged. "We'll find out in the morning."

He nodded. "Does Queen Susan know?"

"Cor, what do you think her first reaction would be if I told my surrogate mother that her adopted son was madly in love with her younger sister?"

My twin didn't have to think long. "Not a Gentle reaction, I would warrant."

"Exactly."

Minutes later, I was in my bed and Cor was in his. I thought he had dozed off, but then I heard him from the other side of the room. "What are you going to do?"

"Do what I should've done from the very beginning."

"Which is?"

I sighed, fatigue slowly overtaking me. "Wait on Aslan, Cor. That's what He would have me do."

In the end, I didn't have to wait very long…

…

…

I applauded as I watched yet another Archenland knight vanquish his opponent and claim 2nd Prize in jousting. 1st Prize went to the Narnian challenger (General Oreius) – in fact, the Narnians were winning the day. Queen Susan had taken 1st Prize in the Archery Contest, at which no one was surprised. High King Peter had taken part in the Swordsman Competition and had lived up to his title – Magnificent he was, as he easily claimed the championship, defeating his own brother in the final match as King Edmund claimed 2nd Prize. Having been persuaded by Aravis to join my brother in the Swordsman Competition, I reluctantly donned a suit of armor and proceeded to claim the most inglorious title of 21st-ranked champion, thus proving once and for all that swordfighting was not my specialty.

The shock of the day had come when Cor defeated the heavily favored Terebinthian champion to take 3rd Prize. The Archenlanders (led by myself) and the Narnians had erupted in cheers and thunderous applause, and even the Narnian monarchs set down their trophies to join us in our celebration. The Crown Prince of Archenland had achieved the nigh impossible, and Anvard would be celebrating our good showing at this Festival when we returned home.

The Spring Festival was blessed with record attendance this year, with spectators and participants coming from places such as Archenland, The Lone Islands, Terebinthia, Galma, The Seven Isles, and even the Calormene Empire. The actual fairgrounds were just outside the city limits – for Cair Paravel by this time had become quite a bustling town – and the people flocked to it in high numbers. I never discovered the number, but masses added up to the thousands. The weather conditions were better than hoped for, and the spirit of the day was positive and festive.

But though outwardly I smiled and was genuinely happy at our success in the competitions, inwardly I was dejected and melancholy.

I had seen Lucy several times that day; first, as she and the High King cantered in to the courtyard early in the morning after returning from the North. She had seen me then, and no word of greeting or acknowledgment came from her lips; instead, she turning away. It cut me to the heart, but I was wise enough not to force the issue.

The Valiant Queen opened the day's contests, and though I hadn't seen her in a long expanse of time, I could tell that my oldest friend was not herself. My suspicion was reinforced throughout the day, as the Festival approached its ending. I wondered, as I stood with my brother in the courtyard of the Cair waiting for him to dispose of his armor so I could get rid of mine, if I had something to do with that…

"…then Duke Tinuviel of Avra will vie for the right to court her, but I can't think of any who will challenge him. After this – 'tis mostly ceremonial anyway, he has no guarantee that she'll hear his suit – the fireworks shall begin, after which we shall all congregate to the Cair for the celebratory feast." Tumnus was saying to Cor.

_Duke Tinuviel…vie for the right…hear his suit_? "Beg pardon, master Faun," I quickly interrupted the faun as he was about to continue. "What is this about Duke Tinuviel?"

Tumnus turned to me just as Cor blanched. His stricken look made me feel sick to my stomach, and I instinctively knew what Tumnus was going to say. "The Duke of Avra will officially ask High King Peter for permission to court his sister, her majesty Queen Lucy. This will mean nothing if she refuses his suit, but the Duke is merely seeking permission to ask her." The Faun seemed pleased with the proceedings. "First Duke Tinuviel will issue a mostly ceremonial challenge to any who denies him his right to make this request of the High King – a challenge of swordsmanship. If anyone stands forward, they will fight until one of the combatants is disarmed. The victor will then make his request of the High King." Tumnus grinned. "Finally we shall see if our beloved Queen Lucy can find a man worthy of her lov—Corin?"

For I had turned on my heel and began striding back to the Festival with Cor at my heels.

I heard Tumnus' anxious voice behind me. "Did I say something wrong, Prince Cor?"

My twin's reply spurred me on. "I don't know yet, Master Tumnus."

I reached the lists just in time, for Tinuviel had moments before entered the lists to the roar of approval from the Lone Island attendees. As the roar sustained, my panic grew. _Think, Corin, think. Blast you, Corin, think man! What would Aslan have you do?_

The crier stepped forward. "His Grace, the Duke of Avra, Lord Tinuviel, challenges any man within hearing, that if such man would challenge the right of His Grace to ask the High King of Narnia for permission to court his royal sister, he should step forth and submit himself to the rules of combat!"

_What would You have me do, Aslan?_

Then I remembered.

_When the time comes, know this – true love is not in words. It manifests itself in deeds, in actions. It shows itself to the poor and lowly in the form of the high and powerful. To show true love, one must be courageous and willing to fight for those he loves, even when others question him. Remember this, when the time comes for you to act on it._

"Will any among you challenge His Grace, the Duke of Avra?"

_Oh dear Aslan…when You said "fight for those he loves", I never thought You meant it literally…_

"Any among you?"

I looked back at Cor. I think he knew what I was going to say before I said it. I grasped the hilt of my sword, still buried in its sheath. "I'm going in there."

Cor halfheartedly tried to talk me out of it. I think the romantic side of him wanted me to go in and fight to the death – he would've done the same if the hand of Aravis was at stake. "He could kill you, if he has the chance."

I grinned roguishly. "If there's one thing boxing has taught me, brother of mine, it's how to duck."

Then before Cor, or Tumnus, or anyone else could say another word, I had ducked under the streaming banner which roped off the lists and stepped into the expansive square.

"I, PRINCE CORIN OF ARCHENLAND, CHALLENGE LORD TINUVIEL FOR THE PERMISSION OF THE HIGH KING TO COURT QUEEN LUCY!" I roared, then added for good measure, "THE VALIANT!"

Everyone within sight of this fell silent…

…and remained silent.

Then my stunned countrymen found their voices, realizing the full consequence of my words. By the Lion, what a roar they raised then! Clanging their shields together, waving their swords and banners high above their heads, yelling at the top of their lungs – it made one proud to be a son of the mountains that day!

I had my eyes fixed on the royal booth, where the Narnian monarchs watched the proceedings below. Queen Susan had gone pale, looked ready to faint actually, but was steadied by her naiad attendants. I could see that "Mum" had finally realized who my secret true love was. King Edmund had a silly grin on his face, not truly believing at first that I was in earnest. I saw him turn to his older brother and speak. I found out months later that he had told the High King, "If this is one of his pranks, I will kill him myself." As for the High King, I could see the shock on his face as he slowly came to terms with what I was doing – and the implications therein. I could see the silent question in his gaze as he turned his eyes to his youngest sister. _Did you know anything of this_?

As for the Valiant Queen herself, I couldn't read her emotions – which was strange, as I had always been able to easily ascertain her sentiments. Surprise flickered across her face, followed by…I couldn't tell. Anger? Fear?

Hope?

The crier stepped forward again. "Prince Corin has challenged His Grace, the Duke of Avra to single combat!"

_Oh. Right._

Killing a man with bare fists was possible, but not entirely easy. Killing a man with a sword, however, was just a matter of one fortunate blow. I knew Cor – who was a master swordsman – could have easily defeated Tinuviel. The question was, could I?

Speaking of Tinuviel, he had been surprised as everyone else when I stepped forward into the lists and issued my challenge, but I could see now that his surprise had turned into wrath. A sixteen-year-old youth had challenged him for a woman's hand – that was an implied insult to his manhood – and he was intent on making me pay for his perceived humiliation. I had no intention of killing Tinuviel (unless he left me no choice in the matter), but of his true intentions I was uncertain.

Lucy stood, her red-and-yellow embroidery in her hand. King Peter stood next to her. I could see her eyes search out Tinuviel, then turn to me. It was then I knew she feared for me. If I had been older and wiser, I would have been fearful as well, for Tinuviel was not a bad swordsman. But I only felt a white-hot burning in me to fight for Lucy, to finally show the world that Corin of Archenland was willing and able to risk bloodshed and injury for the honor of loving a Queen.

Peter whispered in her ear, she faintly trembled, then the embroidery fell to the ground. And when I saw it come to a stop on the sand of the lists, I felt peace wash through me and knew that I had judged Aslan's words rightly.

Only, the feeling of peace vanished as Tinuviel yelled his war-cry and charged.

What followed next was a match for the ages. I cannot tell you how long it lasted; the official timekeeper, a Dwarf, was so enthralled by the combat that he forgot to time the contest. I can only speak of how utterly exhausting it was, defending your life with only a sword, as neither Tinuviel nor I had shields.

_Crash! Clang! Clash!_ The song of the sword played its deadly music time and again. Over and over, we made the same moves, gave the same thrusts, and swung our blades the exact way we'd swung them seconds earlier. For ages, it seemed, we fought, neither myself nor Tinuviel gaining any upper hand. For hours, it seemed, we cajoled our blades to strike, to swing, to thrust, trying to will ourselves to victory.

Lord Peridan told me days afterwards that the lists were sparsely congregated at the beginning of the fight. But word spread quickly that a sword match of unprecedented fervor and emotion was taking place, and so thousands upon thousands of fairgoers made their way to the open tiltyard, surrounding the expansive lists in hopes to see this contest of contests. Narnians of all breeds, races, and types stood next to rugged Archenlanders, who stood next to tanned sheepherders from the Islands and Isles, who stood next to dark skinned Calormenes, all enthralled by the combat raging before their eyes.

After we had traded blows for what seemed like ages, with neither of us injured or come close to being disarmed, I stepped away and lowered my blade, calling out "TIME!" Lord Tinuviel stepped back, breathing heavily. "Do you crave a respite, Prince Corin?" the crier – a Talking Bear by the name of Boru – asked me.

"Two minutes?"

Boru nodded "Granted. TWO MINUTE RESPITE!" he bellowed out to the massive crowd.

I gazed at Tinuviel with a critical eye, measuring him up as I would any opponent in the ring. _He's well older than I, but still a young man…his thrusts have been impulsive and easily defensible…when he sees an opening, he concentrates on nothing else._

I had two minutes to effect a plan that would either win me the contest or kill me.

Moving quickly, I laid my sword in the dust and stripped off my armor, reclaiming my sword when I was finished. "Ready!" I called out to the crier.

Gasps went up from all around the lists. "What is he doing?" "He's mad!" "Tinuviel will kill him for sure…" King Peter and King Edmund were half out of their seats, ready to intervene, when I was jerked around by a furious brother.

"What. Are. You. Doing?" he curtly asked through his teeth, pointing at my discarded armor.

I shook my head. "Don't have the time to explain. Get off the lists before they expel you from the Festival."

"You're practically begging him to kill you!" he hissed at me frantically.

"That's what I WANT him to think. Now go!"

Cor searched my eyes, most likely for some semblance of sanity. All I had were my breeches and cotton shirt. Depriving oneself of armor in a sword fight is neither something desirable nor advisable. But I was fast becoming exhausted and knew I had to win – or lose – the match quickly. Soon, my twin sighed and turned away. I turned back to Tinuviel. Seeing his eyes feasting on my unprotected body, free of armor, I had a glimmer of doubt in my strategy and turned back to Cor. "Give my regards to Father," I called to his retreating back, "just in case."

Turning to face my antagonist, I heard Boru yell "TIME!" before the Duke of Avra was upon me. I parried his frenetic blows the best I could, moving in rhythm with his blows. But one of his thrusts got through my defenses...

I cried out as his blade cut into my left shoulder, and I felt the cool stream of red fluid began to roll down my chest. I stumbled, and instead of stepping back and allowing me to regain my footing (as was the honorable policy regarding an injured swordsman in the lists), Tinuviel's blade whistled down once more, and as I jerked out of its path, it left a red gash across my chest.

"FOR SHAME!" roared the crowd, and through my pain I could see knights of Archenland with swords drawn, ready to exact revenge on my less-than-honorable opponent. But Cor was instantly there in the midst of them, commanding them to sheath their blades, that justice would be meted out accordingly. Praise Aslan, they obeyed their Crown Prince, and war with the Lone Islands was assuredly averted.

The pain was momentarily blinding, and I was gasping to breath. The gash wasn't deep, a scratch more than anything, but it was long, and bleeding continuously. But after a few deep breaths, I was able to see clearly and found that I could lift my sword and continue. I scarcely had enough time to recover before Tinuviel was on me again.

Ah, but boxing training is a fine thing, even in sword fighting, for it taught me to keep moving at all costs – and in this circumstance that advice saved my life. I stumbled away from the Duke's blade, raising my own to meet his attack. Free of my armor, I was lighter, quicker, and more agile, thus able to meet my opponent's assault with greater speed. I fought hard, parrying every blow, matching every movement. But above his skills with a sword, Tinuviel's black character shined through, for when he discovered that I was still able to fight, he (like a child at play) stuck out his foot, and I tripped over it and fell to the sand. As I instinctively rolled away, his blade cut a bloody gash across my back. I couldn't hold in the pain, and cried out in agony.

"FOR SHAME!" came the roars of disapproval again. Again Archenland knights jumped to their feet, swords in hand, and it took Tumnus and Oreius to aid Cor in pacifying them once more.

I regained my feet only to instantly collapse to my knees, believing it was over, that I had nothing left, that I would be dead if I reentered the fight.

Then I saw Him.

He was in a haze, not actually there in person, but nonetheless He was there where I could see Him. The Great Lion smiled at me and whispered, "Well done." Then a gust of wind from the sea blew in, and He was gone. And where I had just seen His wonderful face, I saw Lucy in the royal pavilion, her beautiful face etched with worry, and I remembered anew why I was fighting.

Strength once again filled my sinews, and I knew I had the blessing of the Lion upon me. I got to my feet as the crowd gasped in surprise and shock, and hoisted my sword in my palm. "In Your name and by Your power, oh Aslan, will I conquer." I whispered, repeating the ancient knightly oath of Archenland. I stood tall, ignoring the blood that made its way in tiny streams down my legs, and waited for Tinuviel's charge. He didn't disappoint, and it lost him the contest.

What happened next became the most talked-about item of news for months after its occurrence. I purposefully kept the left side of my body open to his blade, silently begging him to see it. He did, and brought his blade down prematurely. I had assumed rightly that he was impulsive. I sidestepped his thrust with speed that surprised even myself and crashed my blade against his back. His armor saved his life, but the force of the blow sent him facedown into the sand. His sword slipped through his fingertips, and when he rolled over, he found my blade at his neck. "Mercy!" was the first word that issued from his lips.

Breathing heavily, I struggled to speak. "Take your life," I finally was able to say, withdrawing my blade from his neck. "I have no need of it." Boru moved in, aided Tinuviel to his feet, and I turned to face the crowds...

...and spun around as I heard Tinuviel cried out in anger and push Boru away. In his hand was his sword, and it was whistling down towards my head as cries of horror came from the thousands watching this.

Ah, but boxing training truly is a fine thing!

I instinctively stepped into his thrust, reaching out to seize his fist with a grasp of iron. I threw my clenched right fist into his face, and Tinuviel stumbled back, losing his sword in the process. Again, my clenched fist crashed into his face, and again he stumbled back. Once more, my fist made hard contact with his jaw, and the Duke of Avra ignobly crashed to the sand, becoming the twentieth person in history (by my reckoning) to have been knocked unconscious by Corin Thunderfist.

It was then the cheers came.

In my exhausted haze, I could faintly hear the thunderous applause and shouts of approval that rang from the overjoyed onlookers. I could somewhat see the joyous celebration from the Archenland delegation, Cor and Aravis in the midst of them. The Narnians were intermingling with them, just as overjoyed as their Archenland counterparts, clapping each other on the back and shaking hands with Cor.

I held my sword aloft, raising it high above my weary head, and the roars intensified and grew, swelling until it almost made my heart burst. Years later, a Galmian painter with a long memory was able to capture that pose almost perfectly, and it still is a famous painting in Archenland to this day.

As the ecstasy subsided, I limped towards the royal pavilion, pain filling my body with every step. I brought the flat of my sword up to my face in salute to the High King, and ingloriously stumbled to a stop.

"King Peter the Magnificent, High King over all Narnia and her dominions throughout the world," I began before I was forced to stop from lack of breath. I had last a good amount of blood, more than I had originally suspected. "Having challenged and defeated His Grace, the Duke of Avra, I now make my request of you for your permission to ask your royal sister for the right to court her."

Few times, if ever, had I seen the High King speechless. This was one of them.

"Prince Corin," he began, still visibly startled at the turn of events. "As victor of the challenge and conqueror of His Grac-"

"Oh, come off it, Peter," I retorted breathlessly, still struggling to catch my breath as both Queens gasped and King Edmund gaped. I hadn't been this informal with the High King in years – and never in public. "I have blood running down my back, my chest, my arms, and I know not how long I can remain standing, for my legs feel like they could go any moment. I beg your mercy to give me a simple 'yes or no'."

Peter's eyes hardened, but it was not in anger. He rose and stood at the front of the pavilion, every inch of him a High King, resolution in his gait. "You, Prince Corin, have earned the right to stand before me and make this request," he said with manly firmness. "And the answer is 'yes'," he added with a slight grin.

I whispered my thanks as I brought the flat of my sword up to my face in salute, trying to smile through the agonizing pain as I turned back toward my waiting countrymen.

And promptly collapsed, facedown, on the sand.


	5. Chapter Four

_See the west wind move like a lover so  
Upon the fields of barley.  
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth  
Among the fields of gold._

**Lucy's POV**

"Lucy, your cordial!" my sister cried as "her boy" crumpled to the sand, springing into action in spite of the remonstrances of her ladies-in-waiting. Even then, her quick reaction wasn't the fastest – Cor was at his brother's side almost instantly. Catching a glimpse of his frantic expression, I was instantly on my feet racing toward the Cair.

"Where did I last have my cordial, Tumnus?" I gasped to the dear faun attempting to move his middle-aged hooves at the same speed as my much-younger legs.

"Your quarters, Lucy," gasped Tumnus, forgoing formality in light of the circumstances. But he came to an instant halt as shouts issued from the lists, inclining his head to listen intently.

"What is it?" I cried in frustration as I came to a halt, listening to Tumnus curse "hot-headed Islanders" quite roundly.

"It sounds as if Tinuviel's friends have confronted the Archenlanders," he muttered. "Oreius!" he cried out to the passing general, who himself had been alerted to the situation. "We must head off Avra's allies and get the Prince to safety before more blood is spilt!"

"Yes General, I beg you!" My lips seemed to move on their own accord. "Don't let them touch my—don't let them harm Corin!"

The centaur inclined his head to Tumnus and turned his steely eyes to me. "Do not fear, my Queen," as he cracked his knuckles. "They won't get the chance." He then turned on his hooves and raced toward the lists. Even as I hastened onward to the Cair, I felt a twinge of sympathy for any fool who dared to cross blades – or fists – with Narnia's leading warrior.

I found the cordial where Tumnus said it would be, on the lamp table next to my bed. My feet seemed to sprout wings and fly, and I arrived back at the lists well before Tumnus, leaving the wheezing and panting faun far behind me.

"Where is he?" I cried out to no one in particular when I reached out royal pavilion. No seemed to even realize I was there, which added to my frustration. "Please, can anyone tell me where Corin is?"

"Lucy!" I whirled to see Edmund making his way toward me.

"I have the cordial, Ed. Where's Corin?" My anxiety was getting the best of me.

My dear brother put his palms up and waited for me to stop fidgeting. Slowly, I did so, for Ed was very patient. "The Archenlanders took him to their camp tents. Susan is treating him there with Cor and Aravis. They could use the cordial – our young Prince was sliced up pretty handily."

My heart ached upon hearing that. "Are you coming with me?"

Ed laughed. "No, I must find Peter and make sure he hasn't had to kill any of the Islanders yet."

I groaned. "What happened?"

"Tinuviel's friends tried to fight Oreius. 'Twas the most foolish thing they could've attempted – our good general was using his fists as well as he uses a sword, smashing crowns left and right. Peter disarmed the hot-bloods, and I stood with Cor to ensure the Archenland knights didn't run any of them through. But enough chat – Susan's waiting for the cordial. Cor is most anxious…"

I instantly left my poor, patient, longsuffering, understanding brother in the middle of a sentence and raced (as fast I could in a gown) toward the Archenland encampment.

Boru, our faithful lists-keeper, saw me approaching from his post outside the Archenland Royal tent. The dear Talking Bear, who had one of the most gentlest dispositions I have ever seen, was distraught that such treachery had almost occurred on his watch, and had taken it upon himself to guard with his life the young and universally-liked Archenland prince. He waved me over and escorted me to the entrance of the tent.

"The young Prince will be fine, will he not, my Queen?" said the good Bear, who was pacing and fidgeting with worry, anxiously looking at the famed cordial in my hand.

As desirous as I was to get inside and heal the Prince, my heart went out to this faithful and good-hearted subject. "Indeed he will be, good Boru. Aslan's healing is in the bottle, and Prince Corin will be made whole." I said as I laid my hand on his paw. His massive paw covered mine and he smiled with relief, nodding as he lifted the opening of the tent and ushered me inside to the waiting arms of Aravis.

"Praise Aslan you're here," Aravis whispered as she took my hands in her own. "A minute more, and the cordial would've been needed for both twins."

I took in the scene with a glance. Corin was in a cot, covered by bloodstained silk sheets. Susan was silently crying as her fingers ran gently through his hair, stroking his face, whispering words of endearment to the boy she loved as a son. Cor stood at the foot of the cot, and I could tell the emotional strain he had been under was great. As I looked closer at Corin, my eyes filled with tears. He was still unconscious, and though the bleeding had ceased, he was pale from loss of blood. He was shirtless and the bed sheets only covered his waist and below – I could see the wounds inflicted on him, and though I had seen worse on the battlefields of Narnia, I had never imagined how horrid it would look on the body of a boy such as Corin.

_All this for you…_

I was startled by the thought, which had come to me with no warning. I shuddered with the thought, and it caught the attention of Cor. "Praise Aslan you've come," he said haltingly, echoing the sentiments of Aravis. "If we lost him…" and his voice, already thick with emotion, failed him there.

I placed my hand in his, touched by the obvious love one twin bore the other. "If you prop him up, Cor, a drop of cordial will heal him." I said reassuringly. "Will you help me?"

Cor nodded, blinked the unshed tears out of his eyes, went over to his brother, muttered "I'm still going to kill him for this once we're back in Anvard…" Susan stood, stepped out of his way, and he gently hooked his arms under Corin's shoulders, softly raising his body into a sitting position. I uncorked the bottle, and with the expertise of one who had done this countless times before, I placed two drops into Corin's mouth, where they dissolved and began working their divinely blessed healing.

"He is safe now." Susan said from her fixed position at Corin's bedside. "He must sleep and he will be weak for a time, but he is out of danger – for that, we can most assuredly praise the Lion."

"Praise the Lion indeed," came a deep voice behind us, and we turned to see a relieved Peter standing at the entrance of the tent. "I have seen grown men – warriors – perish from wounds such as were inflicted on our good prince and friend."

"Good of you to come, Peter," Susan whispered with gratitude.

"And why do you think he didn't perish?" Cor asked, still wanting reassurance that his brother had the inward capability to survive.

Peter walked over the cot where Corin lay, gazing down at the still-unconscious boy. "I have fought many wars and slain many men," he said quietly. "I have seen men and creatures give up and die after receiving one wound, yet I have still seen others fight on with half a dozen such injuries. It's in their eyes," the High King said. "You can see when a soldier believes so strongly in the cause for which he is fighting – they refuse to die, and you have to hack off limbs until they can go no further." He looked up to see Susan turn pale and his face went slightly red. "My apologies, Su."

Cor cut in. "What does that have to do with my brother?"

Peter's eyes turned to the Crown Prince, but I saw his gaze rest on me ever so slightly. "I saw a half-dead Prince of Archenland risk life and limb for his cause. If such is his mettle, then it will take much more than this to kill Corin of Archenland." He straightened up, his golden hair almost reaching the top of the spacious tent. "But I must be off. Despite the debacle on the lists, we still have a celebration at the Cair and 'twould not be good form for the High King of the hosting nation to be absent." As he passed by me, he slowed to caress my cheek. "He honored you today, Lu. I hope you count him worthy."

As Peter ducked under the expansive tent and strode away, my emotions boiled to the surface. My worry for the wounded Prince clashed with the strange sensation I'd been feeling about him ever since he kissed me by the Archen River. I was confused, troubled, not understanding how I truly felt about my once-dearest friend. I was angry, scared, confused, and all these rushed to the forefront at Peter's words. As Susan, Cor, and Aravis all looked on me after hearing Peter's last words to me, my tension exploded, and I believe half of Narnia heard my scream.

"PETER!"

I can only imagine the complete halt my eldest sibling came to when he heard my shriek. As I stormed out of the tent in pursuit, his face contorted from confusion to surprise to genuine fear. "Lu, what-what is it?"

"HOW COULD YOU?"

"How could I what, Lu?"

"HOW COULD YOU, IN FRONT OF ALL THE WORLD, GIVE A HALF-GROWN BOY – A HALF-GROWN BOY, PETER! – YOUR PERMISSION TO COURT ME?"

"I didn't give him the right to court you, Lu! I gave him permission to ask you for that rig-"

"HE'S A BOY, PETER! AND YOU HAVE MADE ME THE LAUGHINGSTOCK OF THE WORLD, THANKS TO A FOOLISH, HARDHEADED BOY AND YOUR IDIOTIC ACCEPTANCE OF HIS FOOLISH ENDEAVOR ON OUR LISTS!" I was getting hysterical, and we were attracting a lot of attention. "HOW COULD Y-"

"ENOUGH!"

Peter NEVER raised his voice with his sisters or EVER pulled rank on us (he knew the retributions we would pile on him if he ever dared), but when he DID and in such a fashion, even we knew to be silent before Narnia's High King. It spoke volumes of Peter's authority when one word from his mouth turned an outraged Queen into a quiet, meek girl.

"I never want to hear you say such a thing again." My brother said quietly (as he shook his head slightly, undoubtedly to get the ringing out of his eardrums), showing admirable restraint against a girl who had probably come close to deafening him.

I could handle an angry, shouting Peter, but a Peter who was quiet, calm, yet obviously disappointed in me always threatened to bring the tears out of me. "I shouldn't have called you an idi-"

"I wasn't talking about myself, Lu." Peter broke in gently. "Aslan knows I wonder every day why He crowned this idiot at all, let alone made him High King of Narnia. No, I was speaking of Corin. I don't EVER want you to call such a lad a 'foolish, hardheaded boy' again."

There were many times in my life I should have remained silent (and didn't) after Peter spoke. This was one of those times.

"But how COULD you, Peter? How could you give a half-grown boy that right to ask a Queen for her hand? How can you be so hard-head-"

"That was NOT a 'half-grown boy' I saw on the lists this day, Lu!" Peter was now visibly irritated. "Is that what you saw? Then let me tell you what I saw, Lucy Pevensie – I saw a youth take his life in his hands to prove to the world that his love for a Queen was real and genuine. I saw that lad overcome treachery that threatened to rob him of his life. I saw a half-dead boy stand before me – how he was standing at all is beyond my comprehension – and ask me straightforward for my permission to allow him to ask you for your hand. And you expect me to turn him down?" Peter shook his head in exasperation. "How could I, Lu? He earned the right to stand before me today and every day hereafter. He EARNED it, Lu! With his own blood, some of which still stains the sands of our lists, that boy proved himself worthy!" Peter stepped back, composed himself, adjusted his sword belt. "I have nothing more to say except this: I have known Corin of Archenland most of his life. And regardless of what men say of me or him hereafter, regardless if you scorn his advances, regardless if he becomes a laughingstock for daring to try and love a Queen or if I become a laughingstock for allowing him to try, I will NEVER regret my decision to give such a Prince my blessing!"

And with that, Narnia's High King and my eldest brother turned on his heel and strode back to Cair Paravel, leaving a duly chastened sister behind him.

…

…

_Thank Aslan for Tumnus_.

The thought crossed my mind multiple times as I watched our loyal Councilor and most trusted advisor handle with grace and discretion the prying questions of curious foreign nationals regarding the repercussions of the events on the lists. The faun was the master of diplomacy and could answer a question – without answering it at all – with the best of them. He was quite skilled at his craft, and foreign dignitaries were satisfied with the (non)answers our dear Tumnus gave them.

Edmund had persuaded Susan to leave Corin's bedside and return to the Cair for the feast, and with her she brought Cor, Aravis, and the nobles of their kingdom to partake of the joys of the evening. Due to my sister's natural abilities as a hostess, the Archenlanders soon got over their feelings of awkwardness and were enjoying themselves immensely. Peter was in all his glory, arguing political theory with intellectuals from Narnia and other nations or reenacting various campaigns along with Oreius and his generals using tableware – much to the consternation of our longsuffering kitchen staff – demonstrating to foreign visitors the might of Narnia's military power.

All in all, the night was progressing quite nicely. The ballroom was decorated lavishly, the music was lovely, spontaneous dancing had already broken out, the wine was flowing, the food was perfection itself, the conversation spanned every topic known to intelligent beings, and all was at peace and enjoyment. Susan was the belle of the ball, Edmund was king of the dance floor, and Peter was proving to all why he was High King – he even seemed to forget our confrontation several hours prior, treating me with all courtesy and kindness. Aye, the Narnian monarchs were in their element tonight.

All except one.

And that one was I.

As soon as all of my personal greetings were extended to the foreign visitors and their families, I knew I had to escape. Not to my room, not to one of the Cair's many guest rooms, but away from the palace itself.

I drained the contents of my wine glass in a very un-Queenly like manner (which no one seemed to notice, thank Aslan), and very subtly maneuvered my way toward the Cair's nearest exit, smiling and making brief small talk with all who came across my path. As soon as I reached the door and my temporary escort, a Duke of Galma (whose name escapes me even now), kissed my hand, I was gone like a wisp of wind.

Through the corridor I ran for the open air, and thankfully no one came across my path. I soon found myself in the courtyard – a few paces more, and I was out in the open countryside, briskly walking away from the Cair and the town that had sprung up by the harbor shortly after our coronation. If Susan ever noticed I was gone, I knew she would not be happy – but oh, how much I needed to be away from all the hustle and bustle, to be able to breathe in the Narnian air, to feel the Narnian breeze, and to just _think_.

For thinking was precisely what I needed to do, though the one on whom my thoughts lingered brought only confusion to my mind.

_Who is Corin? And who is he to me?_

These questions haunted my every footstep that led me further away from the Cair. I had loved Corin for years as my closest friend apart from my family, and admittedly had never assumed he would ever think of me as anything else. I had been angry with him when he kissed me a year previously by the Archen River, angered by his rashness and yet confused in my own soul. Was it _only_ anger I felt? What was – what _is_ - this confusion in my heart, when I looked in his eyes that day? Did I regret that he kissed me, or did I…just maybe, did I regret that he was too young?

But all young men grow up. And indeed, as Peter said, it was no child I had seen fighting for his life on our lists this afternoon.

He had grown from an adorably cute little boy to a very handsome Prince – even I, at six years his senior, noticed his attractiveness (as any healthy young woman would). I thought of the looks he must receive from the girls in Anvard – and dear Aslan, what is this jealousy I feel at thinking of other women desiring him?

_All this for you_…

The thought came again, and I groaned aloud at its return. I saw again the broken body of Corin lying on his cot, and my anger and confusion sped away from me. In its absence came the reminder that he was still my friend whom I had always loved dearly, and an overwhelming desire to see him again rose up in me. My feet turned to wings and flew, and I raced (in a quite unseemly fashion) toward the Archenland encampment and the Prince.

I slowed to a walk as I approached the tents, not wanting to give anyone the chance of gossiping that Queen Lucy had been sprinting across Narnia. The Archenland encampment was sparsely guarded by men-at-arms, and the sentry merely waved me through as I passed him. I made my way to the center of the encampment, was touched to see Boru still standing guard outside the Royal pavilion, silently keeping watch over the young Archenland royal.

"Still standing watch, good Boru?" I asked, "Come, away with you to the Cair, where Her Majesty my sister will see you wined and dined!"

The good Bear tried to hide it, but couldn't keep me from seeing the wistful look in his eyes as he gazed at the Cair in the distance. "Very kind of you, Your Majesty, to offer it," he said.

"You have done our allies good service today – yet you are weary, Boru. Take your leave, the Prince is quite safe."

Boru stifled a yawn, his weariness not allowing him to say anything to the contrary. "As you wish, milady" he said, and with a final salute, the Bear ambled towards the sounds of cheer and laughter drifting from the great ballroom of Cair Paravel.

I ducked under the tent canvas, allowing my eyes to adjust to the scene. Vase candles had been lit, and the expansive tent was glowing with light. Corin was sleeping on the cot, his features more at peace than when I had last seen him, and the light from the candles gave a healthy hue to the color of his skin. A chair was beside his bed, and I could see Cor's sword belt hanging from its back. Cor had by all accounts been hard-pressed to leave his brother's bedside to come to the Cair. The devotion of one twin to another was touching, and I almost remained standing, not wanting to disturb in some way a testament to brotherly love.

But sit I did, taking in the sight of a slumbering Corin at peace. The cordial had already worked its blessed healing, for Corin looked much better than he did hours earlier. All our good times together rushed back to me, and I smiled as I recalled joyous hours spent with my dearest friend. I began to imitate Susan, caressing his face as he softly breathed. "You're forgiven, dear one." I whispered my absolution of his rash action by the Archen River the year before.

"That's reassuring," came from his lips, and I barely suppressed a shriek as I scrambled to my feet in surprise. His eyes opened, and my surprise turned to indignation at the twinkle within them. "You…you…" I sputtered, searching for an appropriate epitaph. "Lout," I finally decided. "That's what you are, Corin of Archenland!"

"Compared with other names I've been called, that is rather mild," he said quietly and with a wink, still reclining on his cot.

"You're fortunate." I said with mock petulance

"So are you," he said with a pointed look, pulling out (to my surprise) a longknife from under his sheets. Seeing my startled expression, he explained. "I thought you were one of Tuniviel's friends coming to finish me off…thank Aslan you said something."

"Gracious!" I was grateful as well. "Forgive me for frightening you."

"You didn't." Corin was being courteous, I was sure of it. "But after humiliating a Duke in front of all the world, one must be somewhat cautious when an unidentified person enters his tent."

"Indeed," I concurred, as I reclaimed my seat, intent on trading blow for verbal blow. "For the Corin I once knew would not have stopped to identify the object of his deadly intentions, as the Anvard Keep baker once discovered." I said with a wide grin.

He laughed – I had forgotten how charming his laughter was. "Oh, for the love of the Lion," he said through his laughter. "That longsuffering man. How patient and understanding he was after having his fingers smashed by a dough-beater!" The youth on the cot chortled on, clutching his chest. "Oh, by Aslan's mercy," he gasped. "Don't make me laugh, Lucy – your cordial healed the cuts, but left the soreness behind!"

I tried to be understanding to his plight, I truly did. But the look on his face only made me laugh alongside him, and it seemed like all the awkwardness of the past year disappeared with the breeze. Once we both got our humor under control and were resting and regaining our breath, Corin still lying on his cot, myself seated beside him, he turned his head and looked into my eyes. "Good to have you back, Lu," he said softly, and I could tell he wasn't just referring to my physical proximity.

I smiled, reaching down to gently take hold of his hand with mine. "Good to have you back as well," I said with genuine feeling. "How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough to hear Boru depart. Has he truly been standing watch all this time?"

I nodded, smiling. "He was ashamed that Tinuviel tried to commit treachery on his lists. Not one individual entered this tent without his knowledge and permission."

Corin shook his head in wonder. "Such is the generosity of Narnia to her allies. I shall thank him personally when I have the chance. I suppose I should have done it some time ago."

"You needed to rest!" I was starting to sound like Susan.

"I did that, thanks be to your cordial." His eyes took on a more serious gaze. "As the day grew older, I needed time to think more than rest."

I squirmed a bit, knowing internally what he was thinking about, knowing that we couldn't avoid the topic much longer, that though our friendship was intact once again we still had to confront the events of today and their implications. "I needed time to think as well. 'Tis why I'm here instead of the Cair."

He smiled. "We've never normally been ones to think long, have we?"

"Amazing what a kiss will do," I replied with a sly grin and a pointed look of my own.

"About that," It was Corin's turn to squirm. "I'm sorry."

His embarrassed expression had me laughing softly. "No no, I'm quite alright with it now. You ARE forgiven, dearest friend," echoing my first words in the tent.

He nodded his thanks, but was silent for a time, his breathing the only sound I could hear. "Does that forgiveness also extend to what I did on the lists this afternoon?" he finally asked.

The question surprised me. "Do you honestly think you need forgiveness for that?"

"I think only you can answer that question." He was right, of course. "For all I know, you could've wanted Tinuviel's attentions."

_Why did I ever have to meet that reprehensible Duke at all?_ "I was going to turn down Avra's advances, so you saved me the time and effort of having to do so myself."

"Glad I accomplished something good out there…" he muttered, his voice trailing off. But his unspoken words could not have rung louder in my mind, "A_re you going to refuse me the same way you would have done with him?_"

_Who is Corin, and who is he to me?_ There it was again. Instead of escaping the question, it seemed that Aslan had decided for me to confront it immediately. The one question that had been closest to the forefront of my mind suddenly found its way to my lips. "Corin, what _were_ you trying to accomplish out there? Why did you risk everything – and in such a manner – for me?" I had to know, and the sooner I knew the better. "I don't think I quite understand, and I will not be at peace until I know."

He sighed – then he told me, plainly and without reservation, as his voice dropped low. "Because I love you, Lucy Pevensie, and no longer as just a friend." His eyes were fastened on mine, his voice growing husky with emotion. "I thought I could hide it since that day I kissed you, and Aslan knows I've tried. But when Tinuviel declared himself-" and here he paused, regaining his composure. "I had to try. I knew I could fail, and I think I even expected to, but the only regret I ever would've had is if I'd never _tried_ to prove my love to you in such a way." His words were spilling out like an onrushing tide. "I am not ashamed of what I've done this day, Lucy Pevensie, and I never will be...but neither will I blame you or think less of you if you refuse me. I know my limitations – I'm a prince, you're a queen. I'm a youth, you're a woman – but the hope was and still is in me that out of this unworthy lad Aslan can create a man worthy of you, worthy of your love, worthy of your heart. Thus I'm asking you, Lu," and he pulled himself up 'til he was sitting straight up in his cot, grimacing from the soreness in his joints, and gently took my hands in his. "I don't have the strength yet to stand in your presence and ask you properly, but I ask you still, if you would receive my hand in courtship." His tone was in earnest, but his voice was soft, and my eyes were brimming at the depth of his passion. "If not," and his words threatened to cause my eyes to overflow, "I will never think less of you or be any less of a friend to you than I have always been, and my fondness for you will never change. But if you _do_ consent to accept my suit, then know that I will live only for Aslan, Archenland, and Lucy of Narnia, that I will live to be worthy of you all my days, and that it would be my joy to be married to a jewel like that of the youngest Queen of Narnia." My eyes were overflowing by then, and I was crying silently and unabashedly, my hands still fastened in his. "So tell me, Lu-of-my-heart," and my tears flowed anew at the sound of his childhood pet name for me, "what answer do you give to Corin of Archenland?"

Oh Aslan, how was I to respond? I had thought I was prepared to refuse him, then discovered that I was unsure. Now I knew for certain that I could refuse Corin nothing on this night.

_Dearest Peter, my wise brother, you were right._

This was no boy before me. This was a young man who knew exactly who and what he wanted, and had risked his life for the chance to attain it. Now I understood what Peter meant – Corin had indeed honored me on this day. His passion, his maturity, his humility, and his obvious deep love for me struck me and touched me deeply…and for the first time I was willing to say that yes, I was actually considering taking young Corin of Archenland as my suitor.

It took a while, but I finally controlled my emotions, removing my hands from his and drying my eyes, though secretly wanting all the while to feel his touch. I was utterly unsure if it would ever work out between us, if in the process of seeking and perhaps failing to find true love with each other our friendship would be destroyed, but as I looked into his eyes, I too found that I was willing to try.

And when I finally replied, I felt no regret or shame as I took his hands in mine.

"Yes."

Corin blinked.

"Yes, Corin of Archenland," and the tears began threatening again. "Lucy, Queen of Narnia, is" and emotion threatened to cut off my voice "deeply honored by your actions on her behalf to win her favor" Corin's lips parted, and his mouth was hanging open, scarcely believing his own ears "and she accepts your suit and is deeply committed in return" and here I stopped using the official court language "to _try_ alongside you, to try and love you like you love me, to become worthy of such a magnificent prince." Corin had clamped his mouth shut, but had a solitary tear coursing down his chiseled face, which threatened to be the blissful undoing of me as I saw the tremendous happiness and joy in his countenance. "Yes Corin, I accept you, and I am so incredibly happy to do so."

And then I did something no ordinary queen would have done (but I was no ordinary queen) – I leaned in, and gently pressed my lips to his.

Oh, how this would have been a scandal – but oh, how I didn't care. Not tonight.

Corin stiffened (never would he have expected this from me), but soon I felt him relax, and he softly returned my kiss. I began to pull away, not wanting to act _too_ wanton, but he refused to release me, grinning rakishly as he kissed me in return, placing light kisses on my admittedly cooperative lips. His hands slid from mine, his left caressing my hair, his right stroking my cheek. I mirrored his actions, one hand softly tracing his jaw and the other smoothing his hair, all this time returning his kisses with more of my own. And all was bliss.

But breathing is a requirement for mortal humans, and so our light kisses ended for good (and much too soon). I knew I had to return to the Cair, to prepare for the morrow's proclamation that Corin, Prince of Archenland and Lucy, Queen of Narnia were courting. And so I bid my best friend and suitor goodnight, kissing his cheek and whispering my farewell with a promise to return in the morning. He smiled in return, and I fell in love with his smile so much more than I ever had before.

He never told me that he didn't sleep at all that night. And I never told him that I ran on the wings of the wind back to Cair Paravel, my heart singing within me all the while.


	6. Author's Note

**A/N:** To all my faithful and longsuffering readers – I thank you for your support, encouragement, and reviews that you have all so willingly bestowed upon this overwhelmed writer. Your kind remarks have brightened my days as I read them, and I hope this story of Corin and Lucy is up to par with your expectations and hopes.

Many of you may be wondering why I haven't updated in a while. The answer to that question is extremely simple – school and work. Most people take the summer off in school. I can't. Add to that a job, and evenings are reserved for sleeping instead of writing. Life itself seems to get in the way as well, and my romantic pen has suffered as a result. Though you may be hoping for a word of encouragement as to the story and its completion, I'm afraid all I can tell you is that it will be a LONG while before this story is done.

But though I seem to be the bearer of only bad news, I do have one mantra that I keep repeating to myself: "Forget the show, THE FIC MUST GO ON." This story of a romance between Narnia's favorite Queen and Archenland's fighting Prince WILL be completed, though I can give no promises or estimations as to the date of the ending. I have long since started writing the next chapter in the story, so be assured that this story will have finality – this I swear to all of you.

In the meantime, I would ask that you check out my latest non-Narnian, one-chapter fic that I finished recently titled "_No Greater Love_". Reviews on it would be greatly appreciated, and remarks equally so. Until the next chapter of "_Fields of Golden Barley_" then, I bid you farewell.

FoA


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